


Beneath the Castle, History Dwells

by fiftyzillion



Series: Snow White and the Captain [2]
Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiftyzillion/pseuds/fiftyzillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In quiet moments, in lonesome moments, Snow finds her way to the deepest point beneath the castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Castle, History Dwells

There's a door beneath the castle, made from a single slab of granite. It moves on no hinges, slides on no tracks and cannot be seen if you don't step exactly where a single sun beam falls in the hour of the sunset. If you looked closely, there was a small carving of the royal tree among many carvings of simply trees to mark where to stand, as long as you knew how to read the sign. As a child, Snow had always fallen to her knees and sought the small carving with her fingertips. As an adult, there was no need to seek it at all; something within her  _knew_ where to stand. The Queen's Sense, the High Priest called it when she had asked the first spring she ruled, and would then say nothing more.

Snow had not been to the door often in her childhood, could in fact remember barely five times before she was taken to the tower. With the crown of her country on her head, she found she sought the calm of the secret inside more often. As she did today.

There had been a storm in the night, beating against cliff and castle. The waters had risen high, the waves reaching the downmost courtyard and prompting the guards to take shelter on the walls. Snow had laid sleepless on her bed, her stomach tumbling with anticipation, with dread, with fear and with joy. The fierce howl of the winds had been drowned by the pounding of her heart, the sharp staccato of the rain against her windows forgotten in favor of thoughts. 

Three days more, then she would be a married woman. Three days more, then she would no longer be the maiden. She would be the woman, tall and proud, until her first child took her place and she would become the dame. She would be ... someone else.

The sun had just changed from gold to red when Snow stepped out of her study. Her captain, standing outside her door even though it was a lesser man's work, straightened without a word and fell in beside her. Their hands brushed as they turned a corner; a sudden flash of heat that set her flesh aflame. Her eyes darted towards his. He was watching her, a smile tugging at his lips.

She raised an eyebrow. "Impertinence."

He stole her hand and lifted it to his mouth, his eyes meeting hers teasingly. "Flirtation," he corrected her, his lips sliding over her skin as he spoke.

"There's three days left, Captain. I would think that for such a small amount of time, we could do without flirtation."

"But where would the fun be in that?" 

He still let go of her hand, however, and when she came to a stop at the flight of stairs that crept downwards to an unlit passage, he stepped aside. "Be careful. I do not want to call the priest from his evening meal to make sure you haven't cracked you head on a wall."

"As always." Then, because she could not in all honesty say that she minded the break from tradition, she darted in to carress his lips with her own for a small moment. "I shan't be long."

He nodded.

 

 

The sun hovered at the horizon when she reached the door and it was in its warm light she whispered the word that swung the door open. The smell of deep, fresh water hit her face as she stepped through and walked down white steps carved into the rock to reach the spring. The calm water glimmered at her, lit by rocks that gave off light through magic or nature -- no one had been able to tell her which. There was a small seat at the edge of the spring and there she sat down, skimming her hand over the surface. The water rose in response, cradling her hand for a moment before once again becoming a motionless mirror.

"In three days, you will have a new visitor," she told it. "I believe that you will like him -- he's sensitive to nature's magic as few I've met. You might remember -- I have told you much about him. My Captain, my Huntsman, who lived in the forest where no one else could live for longer than most men could survive in places more charitable. I believe he knows about you even now, or at least suspects. He never protests when I come down here, even appears to hint that he knows that I visit someone." A smile flashed over her face. "Even if I'm sure he doesn't suspect that this someone is a well of water."

The water rippled, a laughter as much as any produced by a human throat.

A vine climbed down the wall and curled behind her, leaves sprouting to soften the wood. Snow leaned against it gratefully. "It is hard to sleep when your heart is beating faster than a drum on Midsummer's eve," she said admitted, reading the spring's concern. The water swirled around her fingers, a carress and a soothing gesture both. "I could not be happier, nevertheless."

_And that is how it should be_ , something told her there, at the edge of sleep, when all minds are open.  _Bring your Captain here in three days and I will show him what I have showed you. Then he will prove his worth._

Too close to slumber for words, she thought,  _But he already has, a thousand times over._

_Then all will be fine_ , the reply came,  _and I will love him as I love you._

_You had better_ , she thought. 

Then she was asleep.


End file.
